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...Columbia...
Feb. 1st, 2003 02:36 pmA post to one of my mailing lists, the first I hear. Columbia. I remember Challenger, and I remember it so vividly, and it echos back to me now, sensations I can't process. I go into the other room, tell Mom. Grab clothes, jump in the shower. Let the water was over me and think of other things. When I turn off the water I can hear the TV, and I go, listen.
When CNN runs out of things to say they start speculating; what it could have been, how it might have happened. And it's all crap at this point, because they know nothing, and it's too early, too damn early to say.
Might be terrorists, says the TV, and I want to scream. Shut up, shut up, shut up! And that's the point where I can't deal anymore, and I have to turn away. In the other room the TV goes on, and probably I should go back and turn it off. But I can't.
Somehow all I can think of is the bits and pieces of things that would have become a high school history paper on Challenger if I hadn't moved away, how I probably still have some of those pieces around here. One of them's a book I picked up at the used bookstore where we were going to go today...
I don't pray, and I am too tired to weep.
I am an urban druid lacking even a tree to sit beneath. And I don't know what to do save hug my mother, tell my friends I love them.
When CNN runs out of things to say they start speculating; what it could have been, how it might have happened. And it's all crap at this point, because they know nothing, and it's too early, too damn early to say.
Might be terrorists, says the TV, and I want to scream. Shut up, shut up, shut up! And that's the point where I can't deal anymore, and I have to turn away. In the other room the TV goes on, and probably I should go back and turn it off. But I can't.
Somehow all I can think of is the bits and pieces of things that would have become a high school history paper on Challenger if I hadn't moved away, how I probably still have some of those pieces around here. One of them's a book I picked up at the used bookstore where we were going to go today...
I don't pray, and I am too tired to weep.
I am an urban druid lacking even a tree to sit beneath. And I don't know what to do save hug my mother, tell my friends I love them.
